


Faust

by bearprince



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Roller Coaster, M/M, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearprince/pseuds/bearprince
Summary: Crowley has a bad dream. Aziraphale decidedly doesn't.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 98





	Faust

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Nuke! <3

Crowley, as part of his demonic nature, did not often have nightmares. He had rational thoughts and memories about sulfur pools and human agony, but not nightmares. He didn’t need any fancy reworking from his subconscious to make things worse than what he’d already experienced.

However, tonight, a year after the Ultimate Anticlimax, he was experiencing something new: a sinking feeling unrelated to being hell-bound. He blinked his serpentine eyes awake and assessed his situation. Still in bed. Still, as far as he was aware, a free agent. He heard a sleepy snuffle behind himself and his tension eased as Aziraphale’s soft brown hand instinctively wrapped tighter around his hip. Even as he relaxed, the gentle reminder of Aziraphale’s presence made his eyes water.

A rush of wind outside the bookshop window kicked up leaves, and the ache in Crowley’s chest doubled. The roar of updrafts and the crackling licks of fire played on a loop in his head. He worried he was somehow transferring his panic to Aziraphale, as Aziraphale was also breathing hard behind him, but, again, the heavy weight of him reminded Crowley he was here. That nothing had happened. That as far as the Earth was concerned, everything had reset to before Aziraphale was even discorporated. Tears fell down Crowley’s crooked nose, and he wiped them away in irritation.

It had been so close. It still felt real, the hollow ringing in his heart where Aziraphale had disappeared. His teeth clacked as he gritted them, and he curled in on himself. Aziraphale stirred a bit, mumbled, and then buried his face into Crowley’s neck. The empty space filled back up with warmth. And slowly, Crowley drifted back to sleep.

Crowley did not _often_ have nightmares, but he did have them, and tonight riots of flame and ash blazed through his mindscape. As the bookshop burned around him within the dream, Crowley banged on the floor in protest, screamed himself raw in the smoke, and upturned every book in a fruitless effort for Aziraphale to appear. Then, in a final act of desperation, he approached the heaven-bound portal and made some slight adjustments.

Lucifer was as surprised as Crowley when Crowley appeared in his office. For one, The Lord of Hell’s office was nothing like the rest of the infernal regions. It was spacious, with gleaming white marble tile and a marble desk.

“Well?” Lucifer asked, interrupting Crowley’s looking around and making him jolt. “What’s the meaning of your interruption?” Lucifer drummed his long nails on the desk impatiently.

“Er,” said Crowley, wringing his hands. He hadn’t considered this working. He didn’t have a plan. “There is. Something. A bookshop. I need—just a small jump back in time. More of a hop, really.” Crowley hesitated and looked around, eyes settling on a bookshelf. An idea lit him up inside. “There’s the book! The prophetic one? It’s in there. Yes.”

Lucifer, otherwise handsome, alluring, and pristine, sneered with sharp yellow teeth. “The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, yes? We don’t need it.” Lucifer held up his fingers to snap Crowley away and/or out of existence.

Crowley thrust out his hands. “Wait! What—what if we missed something? If our plan—your plan, sir—doesn’t work? We can’t know unless we have the book, right?”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes and lowered his hand again. “A small ‘hop’, hmm?”

“Yes! Just a small one!” Crowley hiccuped. “A couple of hours at most. And I would need to be in front of the bookshop, to get the book, of course.”

“Nothing to do with Hastur and Ligur?" He looked almost bored, like Crowley’s affairs were entirely inconsequential.

“Not at all!"

He sneered again. “Nothing to do with your angel?"

Crowley’s heart stopped, and he lost eye contact as his gaze dropped to the marble floor. The office reverberated with Lucifer’s sharp, barking laughter.

“I never thought a devil would make a deal with _the_ devil. Interesting. You know that if using the book works, and Hell wins, that your angel will die regardless?”

Crowley swallowed and nodded. "A few hours,” he choked out.

“Delicious." The devil held out his hand, and as Crowley shook it, he was taken back to Aziraphale’s intact bookshop.

Crowley immediately banged on the door, and prayed that the shuffling he heard was real. Aziraphale looked out and swung open the door.

“Oh thank the Lord you're here! I found the boy! He’s—“

Crowley cut him off with a hug, and Aziraphale was too stunned to hug him back for a few beats. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, and his breath on his face made him feel so safe and warm. Crowley squeezed him tighter, but eventually Aziraphale let go to look at him.

"I am so glad you're safe," Crowley said, his heart thudding fast in his chest.

"Why wouldn't I be? But oh—Crowley, weren't you with your… demon company, as you put it? How did you get here so quickly? Are _you_ okay?" he asked, squeezing down Crowley's arms and giving him a once-over. He looked so earnestly confused and so _alive_ that it took Crowley aback.

“I’m fine, I am. Look, it's hard to explain. But… I need the book,” he said. “I have to—give it to my side,” Crowley said, looking down at the ground.

Aziraphale, confused, shook his head. “Why, no! I have not even told my side. I thought—“ he started, and he bit off any remaining vulnerability with a stiff upper lip. “Right. Of course. Loyalties are loyalties, after all,” Aziraphale said, clipped and hurt.

“No, you—it's not—" Crowley's heartbeat cranked up, at once flooded with relief to see him and in despair at his buttoned up face. There was no defense or way to explain.

Aziraphale slammed the book against Crowley’s chest. “Good luck.” He remained stony and wounded, and he snapped Crowley out of his bookshop.

Real Crowley awoke with a start and trembled, with the very real Aziraphale still pressed against him. His brain churned with the work to shake off the vestiges of his dream. Aziraphale had not died, because Hell had not won. No Faustian bargain was made. Aziraphale had been his choice. He had been and always would be Crowley’s choice. Crowley tried not to disturb Aziraphale too much as he rattled with silent sobs. Nevertheless, he felt Aziraphale rouse behind him.

“Alright, dear?" Aziraphale asked, and Crowley felt his fingers stroke his hip in instinctual soothing. Oh. Aziraphale was _here_ , alright. Crowley’s back arched as Aziraphale’s bare, hard cock brushed against his buttocks. He could almost sense Aziraphale’s blush. “S-sorry, I–almost too human, sometimes, you understand—“

Crowley turned around and kissed Aziraphale square on the lips. Aziraphale hesitated in confusion, but eventually clenched Crowley’s side as Crowley scrambled into his lap. His fingers slid through Aziraphale’s wild white corkscrew curls. “Aziraphale,” he whispered, as Aziraphale’s hips bucked against his own. “You’re here.”

Aziraphale smiled and pet Crowley’s cheek with the back of his hand. "Always. My dear, are you quite alri––" Crowley planted a needy, lengthy kiss, gradually absolved of any imagined betrayal, any dream of disappointment. Aziraphale went gently at first, cradling him until he’d lost his frenzy. When he had calmed down, Aziraphale even rewarded him by prying open his lips with his tongue and giving him more. He felt Aziraphale smiling against his mouth, and Crowley smiled easily back. 

"I love you, Aziraphale. I–I really do, I need you to know."

"Oh, my dear, I know. I love you too, so very much. And, if you really are alright... I have some business that needs tending to, if you're game." 

Crowley found his mouth answering in an instant. “Yeah–yes.” Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow right before he flipped Crowley onto his back to lay over him.

The knot in Crowley’s heart finally released and undammed a flood of want. “I’m, uh, very game.” He arched for him and was treated to Aziraphale’s chest rumbling against his own. Crowley spread open his legs and Aziraphale pushed back his knee automatically. “Mm, did your morning wood make you lose your sense of decorum, angel?” he teased, even though he was spread wide with no decorum of his own to speak of.

Aziraphale gave him a flat glare and pushed more until Crowley’s knee was touching his chest. “I don’t see you complaining,” he grumbled, and next Crowley heard a slight thud on the bed. Aziraphale released his knee to pop the cap to their far-more-expensive-than-necessary lubricant and Crowley shuddered beneath him.

Crowley licked his lips and slid his hand slowly down his abdomen as he did his best to be alluring, fingers softly skating across the line of rust-red curls of his belly that led their way to pelvis and on to his half-hard cock, which he took in hand. But Aziraphale pushed his hand away. “Not yet,” he said, and when Crowley had two fingers pressing him open, he couldn’t find it within himself to protest.

Aziraphale stared at his hole, bright green eyes catching the light of daybreak, making Crowley squirm even more. “I am glad we make love so often,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley nodded as his spine lit up with pleasure from the pressure of his fingers. He seemed fascinated with watching his own fingers disappear inside of Crowley. “So ready for it.”

“Hnngk—“ Crowley remarked, and his head fell back onto the mattress as Aziraphale curled his finger against his prostate. Each press made Crowley see stars, and Aziraphale knew it, the bastard. Crowley’s thighs shook with the pressure and pleasure bombarding him, making him moan and clutch at nothing. It felt like an hour had passed before he finally relented on that one overwhelming spot, though realistically it could have been only a few minutes, and by then Crowley’s cock was seeping precum on his belly. Aziraphale stroked him once, and Crowley’s abdomen tensed as his mouth fell open in a silent cry, but Aziraphale didn’t repeat himself. Crowley glanced up, eyes glassy and out of focus, to see Aziraphale leering down at him over his nose.

“Easy to make you wet," Aziraphale said, and his filthy talking made Crowley’s cock throb against his belly. Aziraphale licked his lips, still staring between Crowley’s legs. Aziraphale picked up his leg and, with a gentle smile, brushed kisses along the inside of his pointy ankle and calf. “Gorgeous.”

Crowley was completely Aziraphale's, and he panted as he was pummeled with Aziraphale’s love and lust in equal measure. Crowley wanted to be worthy of his adoration. He put everything in the vulnerable, trusting look he gave Aziraphale, and Aziraphale looked back at him with open affection. Aziraphale bent down to kiss him again and Crowley bloomed for him.

Aziraphale went from kissing him tenderly to smacking his cock against Crowley’s hole, making Crowley gasp in surprise. “ _Fuck_ , Aziraphale—! Please, please—” Aziraphale smirked and then lined his cock up as he pressed both of Crowley’s legs back, effectively folding him in half and pinning him to the bed. He pressed in, and Crowley hissed and wrapped his arms behind Aziraphale’s neck. “Yyyyes!”

Aziraphale bit his neck and Crowley's cock rubbed wetly against Aziraphale’s soft belly, making his toes curl. “Perfect, darling,” Aziraphale murmured against his neck, and Crowley hiccuped from the rising tide of emotion. Aziraphale kissed the side of his face, and then yanked Crowley back to sink all the way into him. Crowley’s legs kicked out, but Aziraphale used his strength to keep him in place, which made Crowley’s eyes roll back.

Aziraphale rocked deep and hard into him, hitting every ridge as Crowley’s hole fluttered around his cock. With every thrust, he went all the way in and almost all the way out, letting the head of his cock brush against Crowley’s prostate to drive his pleasure.

“Yours,” Crowley blurted out, and Aziraphale hummed above him.

“Mine,” Aziraphale replied in a deep rumble, and in response he picked up the pace and plowed into Crowley properly. With his cock trapped between his belly and Aziraphale’s, and Aziraphale fucking him as hard as he needed, Crowley had no chance to hold off. He came with a cry, and Aziraphale moaned as soon as they could both feel the heat and stickiness.

His orgasm seemed to really do something for Aziraphale, as he fucked him even harder and panted and moaned above him. Crowley hadn’t realized his eyes had been screwed shut in pleasure, but when he looked up, Aziraphale had his jaw set in concentration as he fucked him apart. Desire pulsed through Crowley’s veins, making him ache from how much he loved him, how much he needed him. Soon, Aziraphale cried out and filled him with his cock bollocks deep.

“Yes—that’sss right, angel, let _go_ –“ Crowley grinned, and he clenched on Aziraphale’s cock as he pulsed inside him. Aziraphale whimpered, finally finished, and collapsed on top of Crowley. Both of them panted in a tangled up heap.

Aziraphale moved first, heading to the bathroom. He came back and cleaned Crowley up with soft strokes of a washcloth. “Hello, darling,” he said, and Crowley looked to see a flushed, naked Aziraphale smiling down, a perfect greeting as the sun began to seep into the windows. Magnificent didn’t begin to cover it. Crowley teared up, and worry flickered on Aziraphale’s face, but Crowley clumsily moved his noodly arms to wave his preoccupation away. Aziraphale laughed, then, and just the noise sent Crowley’s emotions reeling. He yanked Aziraphale back down to him and Aziraphale fell with an oof, now smiling into his neck.

Crowley stroked Aziraphale's back pensively. “I had a dream,” Crowley started.

“Mmmm, so did I," Aziraphale replied as he kissed Crowley’s jaw. The implications made Crowley shiver and consider lying to him so that they could tumble around in the bed again.

“It wasn’t a sexy dream," Crowley said, and Aziraphale paused to bring his head up and look at him.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I thought–you remember the Apocalypse?”

Aziraphale chuckled. "It comes to mind,” he teased.

Crowley pushed him. "It was about the fire.”

“Oh.”

“Mm. So.” Crowley took a breath. “I had a dream I tried to make a deal for you to come back, only–I had to betray you, and you didn’t know why, and you were so _angry_ with me, Aziraphale—“

Aziraphale shushed him with a kiss against his temple. “You didn’t. You wouldn’t,” and he said it with such certainty that Crowley melted all over again.

“It was better," Crowley said. "To have you here and angry with me, then gone.” He teared up and looked away, and Aziraphale pet through his hair.

“Hush, my love. It didn't happen."

Crowley nodded, still not quite believing it. A silence settled, and Crowley let his eyes slide shut with his head resting on Aziraphale’s soft chest.

“You were brave," Aziraphale said. "You didn’t just choose me. You chose the whole world.” Aziraphale choked up, and Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand.

“So did you," Crowley replied.

“And here we are," Aziraphale finished. He wrapped his arms around Crowley.

The both of them watched the sun rise over London, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out [Nuke's good good art.](https://nuclearnerves.tumblr.com/tagged/good%20omens)


End file.
